


Tale#4: Freedom at a Cost

by Rexotec



Series: SCP Foundation Files - Overwatch [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game), SCP Foundation
Genre: Alternate Universe - SCP Foundation, Hanzo is still angry, Internal Monologue, Mei is also involved a little but she ain't there, Resisting the Urge to Kill, lucio dva and brigitte are very minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 05:53:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15042200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rexotec/pseuds/Rexotec
Summary: SCP-076 gets what he wants, for a price. But what he is given doesn't quite come up to standard...





	Tale#4: Freedom at a Cost

**Author's Note:**

> Trainwreck alert!

Hanzo watched as the door grated open with a hiss. Eight guards marched through armed with rifles. He watched as Mahant stepped through, surprised. He never came directly to his cell.

“You’ll need to come with me”, he said.

There was no collar, and a weak set of handcuffs. He wondered how much they trusted him now as he was led through Area-14-B, into what looked like another ‘interrogation’ room. Instead, it opened out into a huge docking space. Vehicles and lockers were stacked all over the chamber in a haphazard array.

He was walked over to a table near some of the smaller armaments, where a group of soldiers were waiting for them.

“This is Alfgeir, or Commander Moresby, as he’s known by. He’s the head of Division-14”.

Hanzo resisted the urge to snarl in distaste.

“Seventy-Six, is it?” Moresby asked. “Zenyatta’s told Mahant you were interested in fighting for the Foundation, is that right?”

“It is”.

“Alright, we’ve got a couple of things to run through before that’s all settled. Before that, do you want us to call you anything else than a number?”

“Seventy-Six is enough”, Hanzo snapped back.

“Okay, okay. First off, no one in the Task Force is allowed to touch you _without_ authorisation. We’re not having another incident like that again... Secondly, you’ll need this”.

Moresby held up a device, about the size of his thumb.

“This goes on your neck. It’s a tracker, and it will detonate on my command, and will alert me if you tamper with it. You are to not to take it off, yes?”

He resentfully nodded.

“Good. Thirdly, seeing as we may not have containment breaches every week, there is a training ground in Area-14 that is equipped for your needs specifically. However, seeing as it’s upstairs, you’ll require an escort to and from the grounds at all times. _When_ you’re upstairs, there is to be absolutely no interaction with any other ‘skip’ in this facility”.

“Did you not just say I was to help you to _contain_ them?”

Moresby looked him over sternly.

“ _Without_ being briefed, you’re not to engage _anyone_ without my direct orders. Do you understand?”

_“Yes”,_ he answered, reluctantly.

“Alright. Other than that, the door to your cell will remain unlocked and the defence corridor will be disabled. I want you aware that you must be accompanied by an escort from the Division at all times. Do you understand?”

_“…Yes”._

***

Hanzo strode down the corridor, impatiently following the guard in front of him. The cargo elevator up had been tedious enough, and he was itching to reach the training ground.

As they walked, his hand reached up to gently feel the metal device attached to his neck. So that they knew where he was… So that they had _control…_

He snapped back to attention, adamant on memorising the route they were taking so he wouldn’t have to rely on them again.

“What’s that smell?” He demanded suddenly, making the guard in front of him jump.

“I… uh… what smell?” He asked, now nervously sniffing the air. “Oh… that’s probably the pizza from the mess hall. You’re not allowed in there, just so you know”.

The demon rolled his eyes, before irritably waiting for him to keep going.

Finally, they reached the training ground. It was, to Hanzo’s satisfaction, gigantic, and divided into different sections, with a gym to one side.

“And what will I be fighting here?”

“Well… if you get bored of the training dummies there’s always a few ex-military D-Class personnel to spare. We generally prefer not to kill them, but if it can’t be helped, it can’t be helped”.

“You will _inform_ me if any of them are able to use a blade”.

The guard nodded and left him alone.

He started on the handing sandbags, pounding each one to smithereens before continuing, but he felt distracted, and uncertain, though he wasn’t sure about what.

_You need a warm up after 4 months._

He refused to believe so. The day was spent mostly pummelling punching bags, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of insecurity, of doubt.

He was sure it would fade by tomorrow. It was likely boredom. It was _definitely_ boredom.

***

He spent just about every day in the training grounds. Mahant would come in from time to time, and make him try out different weapons, much to his dislike. He’d told the doctor he was able to use _anything_ that was given to him, but they seemed adamant on seeing what he could do.

So far, he’d been part of _one_ containment mission, and he wondered if they had used him only because they knew he wouldn’t be dead for long. _That ice bitch could go to hell if it wouldn’t freeze over when she arrived._

God he sounded like Genji…

He was still fuming about being used like this. No ‘rip her throat out’, no ‘take her down’, no… he just picked her up and chucked her back in the containment cell before proceeding to freeze to death.

That was _not_ what he was here for.

Hanzo did admit, however, that they’d begun to trust him further after that. Nothing had changed, he still was not allowed anywhere he wasn’t before, but other SCPs had been permitted to use the training area.

He had found a few others milling around when he got there, and had provoked quite a few stares, which he shrugged off immediately. Still, he was no doubt curious about his fellow ‘inmates’. Genji was never here, and he couldn’t help being a _little_ interested.

There weren’t many SCPs that used the area, but a few came in just to use the gym equipment. _Lucio_ had stayed away from him, which he didn’t care about, and so had ‘D.Va’. There was another girl, Brigitte, who seemed like she wanted to talk with him, but either was too scared or wasn’t allowed to by the Foundation. He didn’t care about her either.

The only SCP that ever went near him was a man named McCree, which Hanzo had learnt from Mahant after their first encounter. Neither of them talked to one another, but the man would join him for target practice without saying a word.

Almost weeks later, he had been readying a bow when McCree finally spoke.

“Y’ever used a gun before?”

He started, before turning his head to the gunslinger.

“And why would I need to?”

The man stared at him for a moment.

“You ain’t… you’re speaking normally…”

Hanzo properly faced him, the bow vanishing into inky smoke.

_“Yes?”_

McCree looked down.

“Folks don’t normally do that… is all. Shouldn’t be surprised, I guess. There’s a couple other inmates who don’t either”.

Some faint feeling inside the demon decided… not to _like_ McCree, but to not explicitly _hate_ him either. Even if it was just the shared use of the word ‘inmates’. He looked back at the target, which was about to collapse if given another shot, and decided to give it up.

“What happened to your arm?”

“Oh… heh, long story… got blown off”.

_A pity…_

The conversation continued for a time, and Hanzo was reluctant to admit he enjoyed talking with the gunslinger.

“So how long have you been here?” McCree asked.

“I… am not sure. Why?”

“Just curious. I’ve been here around 6 months. You really don’t have a clue?”

“I do not have contact with anything outside my cell, except for _him”._ He pointed to Mahant, who had just entered the training area.

“But… why?”

“They do not trust me. Do you know how many of them I have killed?”

“Nearly three thousand”, Mahant said, stepping in, along with two other guards. The demon shot him a look.

_“Two thousand, nine hundred and thirty-one”,_ he growled back.

“Didn’t know you kept score”, one of the guards snickered.

“Don’t make it two-nine-thirty- _two,_ Oscar”, Mahant snapped. “In the meantime, Seventy-Six, you’re to come with me. We have an experiment we’d like to test out”.

“…What is it?”

“A fight, between you and Ninety-Six”, the doctor replied. Hanzo immediately perked up.

“A _real_ fight?”

“We don’t want Jack dead… but you can go for it. He hasn’t been able to be killed so far”.

“Then we should not _waste time”._ Hanzo eagerly replied, resisting the urge to sprint down to Morrison’s cell.

“You off, then?” McCree asked quietly. The demon glanced back.

“You have no idea how _boring_ it is here. They haven’t given me a task since I was _frozen_ over”, he answered, shooting Mahant a look. The doctor just glanced at him forbearingly before following him out of the room.

Hanzo vaguely overheard McCree’s words as he exited the grounds, before the door closed behind them.

_“Does he really just fight everythin’ in front of him?”_

***

McCree turned around as Hanzo entered the training grounds.

“Been busy for a couple of days… or something?”

“Dead”, the demon growled, proceeding to ignore the gunslinger. He was still angry about _Jack._

_He was not weak._

Infuriated, he stormed out of the area an hour later, his ‘escort’ struggling to keep up. He didn’t want to wait for them, but he knew Mahant would get touchy with him, so he stopped for a moment to let them arrive.

He caught a whiff of the mess hall again, stronger than before. Perhaps they’d left the door open…

He pushed the thought aside, glaring at the squadron to catch up. They travelled back to his cell in silence, where he could finally chew everything over.

_He was not weak._

There had to be a reason… there had to be a reason he _lost_ the fight…

He practically crashed onto the cot in his cell, glaring at the ceiling.

…This was _not_ happening… There was _no_ reason, _no_ reason Jack was stronger than him. He _couldn’t_ be.

The thought threatened him. It _terrified_ him. What if… what if there _were_ more dangerous entities kept here?

_Why_ was he thinking like this? Since when had he been so unsure…?

Hanzo leapt off the bed, wrenched the door open and stormed outside. The guards started at his footsteps, unsure as to why he had returned so soon. He took a moment of brief satisfaction to scare them _just_ a little with a _hungry_ look.

“Did… you need something, Seventy-Six?” One asked.

The demon said nothing for a few seconds, glaring at her, deliberately keeping scarily calm.

_“Where is Zenyatta?”_

 


End file.
